


Tied Up in Strings | Erwin Smith x Reader

by tsurakofuku



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Lemon, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Multiple Sex Positions, One Shot, PWP, Reader-Insert, Self-Insert, Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:12:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29425089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsurakofuku/pseuds/tsurakofuku
Summary: Valentine’s Day Special! ☆ Erwin has a gift for you, but it comes with strings attached (specifically, binding your hands with the bolo tie). *I DO NOT OWN ERWIN SMITH OR ATTACK ON TITAN* Minors DNI.Recommended accompanying playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/42XHwFn7sHjJPa95HkzPki?si=f021994106f24cfc [in order is optimal]
Relationships: Erwin Smith/Original Character(s), Erwin Smith/Original Female Character(s), Erwin Smith/Reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 141





	Tied Up in Strings | Erwin Smith x Reader

**Author's Note:**

> After running a poll for the Valentine’s piece with over 3,000 responses, Erwin was our winner with 451 votes. This is rather canon-compliant. It can happen essentially any time, before plot events, or after the story picks up, really just any time before losing his arm and the real action kicks up. It’s also very OC/ reader friendly – you could be a Survey Corps member, or another military branch, or just in town… however you envision yourself. And as usual, I do not write condoms into my work. Enjoy! 
> 
> Recommended playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/42XHwFn7sHjJPa95HkzPki?si=f021994106f24cfc [in order is optimal]

When Commander Erwin Smith has reason to travel to Wall Sina, he brings you back gifts. The trinkets have unspoken words tied into them, his fingers writing them into the side of the sweets, the wood, the cloth, as he presses them into your hands. _Sorry,_ the gifts say, heartfelt messages that reverberate when you carry them through your days, _sorry for the uncertainty. Sorry that the only promise I can give you is that nothing is promised. Sorry that every time you see me, it might be the last. Sorry that I can’t give up this life, these responsibilities, for you. Sorry that I won’t._

Some might say that repeated apologies are worthless. But when the ribbons fray and snap after so many times knotted in your hair, when mud cakes indelibly at the bottom of the fine leather boots, when the sweet berry scones are all devoured, the memory of him remains. Erwin’s fingers, gentle to the touch under the callouses, and how when you look up to thank him, the way his eyes say more than enough. It’s what you look forward to, that private time, those unspoken words, more than the gifts themselves.

It’s a more guaranteed promise than a return from the other direction. 

He’s been gone just over a week this time. The summons of military officials to the capital are often confidential, which makes both Erwin’s departure and reappearance somewhat of a surprise. Today it comes when you pass aimlessly through the streets and hear two familiar voices floating from a tavern. One overly- enthusiastic – bordering on screaming – the other groaning, begging for them to _just shut up_. Looking through the pub windows, beyond the layers of grime and the late afternoon sun, you can make out the two pine-green cloaks unaccompanied by their usual third. 

Your body recognizes what it means before your brain can string together coherent logic. Feet turning, you find your pace quickening, that pure warm joy burning in your chest hotter and hotter as you make your way back to those usual lodgings. Hand on the thick wood lobby door, never mind the splinters from the harsh, eager shove. You know it, you just know it, almost sprinting up the stairs – 

And he’s there. Erwin stands on the landing outside the rented room, one hand curled in a knock, the other holding a brown paper parcel to his chest. 

“Welcome back,” you say, breathless, heart pounding in your throat.

He smiles in return, the hand just about to knock at your door extending toward you. He catches you around the waist, fingers hard over your hip as he shifts his hold to the small of your back to draw you in. Your arms fold into his, hands reaching up and resting on either side of his face. Just the faintest hint of stubble catches beneath your thumbs when you run them up his jaw. 

Erwin smells clean and expensive, the rosy amber soap of the capital’s lodgings still lingering on his skin. It’s heady when your lips meet, and he tastes sweet on your tongue when his mouth parts in a gentle sigh. The collar of his trenchcoat is stiff against the side of your hands as they slide down to cradle against the back of his neck. The bulk of the package shifts between your chests, his hand flexing warm against your sternum in the grip. He tightens the embrace, and your fingertips press into him in response.

It’s a brief kiss, Erwin leaning away with a light squeeze. You fumble for the key. 

“How was it?” you ask as you unlock the door, knowing his answers will be guarded. Your heart still beats wild and gleeful. 

“Easy journey, uneventful all in all. The assembly was just route affairs,” Erwin says. There’s no way to know the extent of that truth, but you nod, accepting what he can share. 

It’s a small room, cheap, but discrete and reliable enough. A wash basin, a set of drawers that rarely has reason to hold clothes for long, and the bed. It’s already dark, the sun slipping beyond the view of the window. You shrug the thick curtains closed. Erwin strikes a match to light candles on the bedside table with the package still tucked into the crook of his arm.

“I brought you something,” he continues, and your eyes go not to the outstretched parcel, but to his face. In the dim warm light of the room, his gaze shines on you as he shrugs off the overcoat, his mouth curving into a soft smile when you take the crinkled paper package from him. It’s about the size of a book, but much too thin.

“Thank you.”

“Open it.”

You tear your eyes away to look down, the package laced with soft creamy string. Plucking at the knots with your fingernails is futile, and you move to sit on the side of the bed, resting it on your lap for better leverage. Erwin sits beside you. 

Untangling the knots takes a little longer than is graceful, and you let out a light, anxious laugh as you run your finger under the folds of the packaging. A small wooden box slides from the paper. 

“I remembered your favourite colour – ” Erwin begins, but your gasp interrupts him. The polished wood of the lid slides under your fingers as you lift it, revealing a shining necklace, the metal cool silver even in the weak light, a single glimmering stone weighing the chains down to the corner of the box. You lift it, letting it catch iridescence, brilliant rainbows thrown against the walls.

“It’s gorgeous,” you say, turning back to him. Erwin says nothing, simply taking the necklace. It slides between your fingers as your hands brush together, his touch lingering. You lean your head to the side, letting him fasten it around your neck as you reach up to center it. His hands are gentle, a soft caress against your shoulders that says all those heavy, unspoken words.

_Sorry, sorry._

The necklace is beautiful, truly, truly beautiful, but it doesn’t matter, it never matters, as much as this time with him does. 

With one hand still against the stone you reach for his face again with a splayed hand. You run your finger just over his lips, feeling the grooves gently chapped skin, the cool exhale of his breath. Your eyes search his, those endless storms of blue. Erwin leans into your touch, his hand moving back around your waist to pull you close once more. You lift your hand from his lips, gently cupping his face and letting your lids sink closed, his brilliant cerulean gaze fading as he kisses you again. 

There’s no rush to these homecomings of his, no eager panic like the hot, frantic fucking that happens between official duties or fractured expeditions, with harnesses choking your limbs and the scent of blood whipping the air. But Erwin’s lips are still hungry, the hand on you commanding – hands, now, as the weight of his embrace tightens around you. He moves you onto him as much as you lean forward, and you’re straddling his lap with folds of fabric straining between you. 

Your body presses against him, and your fingers hunt blindly down, over the rough velvet skin of his jaw, breath fluttering in his throat, down to the strings of his tie. You gently pull at the smooth green stone just enough to give yourself room to fumble for his shirt buttons. In return, Erwin’s hands are sinking lower, gathering your skirt where it bunches at your raised knees over him. It’s when his hands move up, over the tickling, smooth fabric of your stockings to the curve of your thighs and ass, that you feel yourself grinding just so slightly into his lap. 

Unbuttoning the shirt all the way down brings your hands to his belt, and you break the kiss with a pant, resting your forehead against Erwin’s as your open your eyes. His eyelashes blink up under yours. One hand stays bracing at your back, the other moves to still your unfastening of his pants. A simple directive. When you do, hesitant, grabbing at his waist for balance, his hand at your hip slacks. You lean back on his lap until his face is level with yours, the hand at your back tightening again to keep you steady. Erwin lets go of your hands to cradle your face. His fingers stroke soft, right under your ear, thumb caressing the side of your cheek and sliding towards your lips. You pause, fingers flexing, waiting under his open shirt, his body warm.

This is the Commander’s leadership as you intimately know.

“Open your mouth for me,” Erwin says, the order a hoarse whisper, and moves his hand forward. He traces his thumb over your bottom lip as he speaks. You part your mouth, or he pushes inside, you can’t tell if you followed his words or his motions. Your lips close around his thumb as he curls it right behind your teeth, and he lets out a gentle groan when your tongue flickers over him. His other fingers cup right under your chin, keeping your face right towards his, and when your eyes flutter to him, his cheeks are ruddy with flushed desire. 

His thumb moves up, past your sliding tongue, to the roof of your mouth, forcing your lips open again. The salty taste of his skin, the slight prick of his fingernail against your palate, brings a tingle through your mouth, and you moan at the watering feeling. The hand stroking over your hip moves lower, massaging in slow circles.

“You’ve been patient all week,” Erwin says. “Can you be patient a bit longer?”

Drool slips from your lips as you nod into his hold.

Erwin smiles, lets his finger rub down across your lip as he pulls his thumb from your mouth, smearing on the side of your chin as he tilts his face close to you, kissing your mouth sweetly. Hints of rose waft through the air with him as he releases his hold against your jaw to wrap both hands around your waist, turning you with him to guide you down to the bed. 

His open shirt hangs over you, the swinging strings of the half-loosened bolo tie crashing into his fingers as he moves down your body, unfastening as he goes in the constantly adjusting crouch over you, pressing kisses to the skin he slowly exposes. You sit up as best as you can, aware of the panting breaths coming from your mouth as you both peel the clothes off your body to fling to the floor. Erwin reaches your stockings, running along the band, and you roll your hips up. He catches right under your knee with strong, thick fingers, and lifts your leg to him.

You flush, feeling your face grow hot, when Erwin leans in and kisses you there, open mouthed against your inner thigh. He must feel you tremble because he moves lower, kisses just a little higher up on your thigh, biting the sensitive skin gently.

You moan, reaching for him, and he catches your hand in his free one. He interlaces his fingers with yours, pushing down to hold you, hot against your strained knuckles. 

“Will you be patient?” he asks again.

Your “ _yes_ ” is more a groan.

Erwin squeezes your hand before letting go, and you rest back on your elbows as he rolls your stockings down your legs, sliding your boots off with them. You tighten your thighs, resisting the urge to cover your wholly naked self as Erwin adjusts above you, knees on either side of yours and sitting up. He looks down at you, face half-hidden in the long shadows of the room, tugging off the white dress shirt. 

The sparkling green stone swings forward with his movement, and he catches it in his fingers. He’s silent for a moment, and you lick your bottom lip.

“Erwin – ”

“Raise your arms,” he says, rocking back on his ankles as he pulls the stone lower through the tie. He lifts it over his neck, disrupting his usually neatly parted hair. 

You settle back onto the bed, mattress letting out a creak as you roll your shoulders, lifting your hands to him. The chain of your necklace slithers across your skin, the charm falling against your back. Erwin takes your offered hands gently, his grip swallowing your wrists. He pins them together not ungently, leaning forward to give a soft kiss to your entwined fingers. The strings of the tie slides between you.

“I’m going to trust you won’t break this,” he says, his voice thick.

“No,” you whisper as he slips the tie over your hands, tugging the cords just enough that your wrists can barely turn against each other. 

“Good girl,” Erwin says, letting you go. Your hands rest against your stomach, and your eyes move to them, the green stone glimmering in the dim candlelight. It feels so heavy, so conspicuous, and you lift your hands over your head to reach the pillow behind. You raise your chin, looking at your hands behind you, then lift the back of your head, craning your neck to see Erwin. The bed dips as he climbs off, the clatter of his belt as he pulls his pants off, and then he’s back. 

He’s lowering himself, shifting over you, and when you look at his face, his eyes are locked on your body as he places his hands on your thighs, urging them to either side in a gentle lift. His blond hair falls down, out of comfortable sight, as he settles down between your legs. You swallow, letting your head rest back against the pillow. The dark ceiling yawns over you. 

Erwin’s fingers are firm on your skin, his breath so warm against your inner thigh, the delicate rhythm of air just barely skating across you making your muscles tense. And – “ _oh_ ” – it falls from you in a gasp when his lips touch you again, a more intimate kiss.

He never eats you out sloppily, no loud smacking mess, but his tongue is demanding. He moves into your cunt slowly at first, tongue tracing your slit, dipping between your folds to press down and find your clit. His mouth opens fully, lower lip rubbing against you, giving teasing friction that makes your legs tremble as something hot begins to coil and burn right behind your stomach. The next groan that comes from you, a breathy muddle of elated curses and his name, is what makes him move faster, flicking his tongue up against you with hard pressure. Your eyes unfocus and cross and the corners of the ceiling multiply, an ache shooting through one leg as Erwin pushes it higher as he lets the other go. His hand slides gently against your inner thighs. 

“ _Fuck, oh!_ ” Your sounds, broken moans and half words, cut through the air. 

Erwin’s hand under your thigh tightens in warning, not enough to hurt, but enough to bring you pause, shaky breaths still harsh out of your lungs. “Can you hold your voice back?” he asks, his voice low. “The neighbors weren’t too happy last time.”

You press your lips together and nod.

“Can you?” he asks again, and it’s there, the command in his voice that doesn’t leave an option. You just nod again, not trusting your volume, and you hope he sees you. He keeps moving, letting your wet arousal pool against his searching fingers until he slides a finger into your entrance. You roll your shoulders back even further, your shoulder blades sore at the strain, hands still dutifully clasped over your head. Biting back the scream is hard - _fuck!_ \- and his tongue rolls over your clit again and again methodically even as he fucks two fingers up inside you. 

His mouth, his fingers. He runs his tongue in smooth circles before closing his lips around your clit and giving a brief suck that rockets hot through you. His fingers slip further up, pushing you apart as he goes further, to the second knuckle. He pumps into you, short and fast, but _deep_.

You roll your hips into him, pushing your body down the bed. You almost swing your hands down with you over your head, and let out a whimper as you force them back. The cords of his tie are beginning to get uncomfortable. The blood feels heavy under your skin, hands throbbing at the constraints. It’s a present sensation, just not as pressing as the feeling of Erwin between your thighs as your hips buck, almost riding his face now with erratic, growing speed. 

Erwin’s pulling you along, tongue flickering up and down you faster and faster. A groan slips from him, muffled into your body and sending shooting vibrations through to your core. You push your hips back down into the bed and his fingers chase you down, curling in you deeper and deeper, pushing behind your stomach. 

Close, so close, with the beckoning motion of his fingers, when Erwin lifts his head with a soft groan. He frees his grip against your thigh. When he pulls his fingers out of you, you feel yourself desperately, uselessly clenching for him, suddenly achingly empty. Your legs slide down, weak and pulsing against where his grasp had been. You crane your neck forward, as a desperate whine slips from your lips. 

“Don’t… be so cruel.”

He’s panting as he sits up into your line of vision, lips glistening with you. He watches your face, flushed and contorted, and crouches forward, one knee between your legs as he rests his forearms on either side of you. He’s silent, blue eyes dark in the dim room as they bore into yours, and his finger slides under the chain of your necklace. The weight of the stone slides against your shoulder, dipping into your collarbone, as he urges it forward. You sigh, and he kisses you – briefly, lips closed. 

“I like your hands here,” he muses, one hand traveling up to run along the strings. Your fingers fold down, reaching the smooth green stone, then his warm, gentle grip. “Keep them up.”

“Yes, _sir,_ ” you say, the breathless edge to your voice losing any sort of snark. You think he smiles, but it’s hard to see clearly so close to you in the poor light. He rocks over you, and your words cut off in a gasp as you feel his cock, hard and thick against your inner thigh. 

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” you let out in anticipation, but Erwin’s fingers drum against your hand as he slides his cock back and forth between your legs, pressing right up against your wet folds. It’s so sensitive, so teasing, as the heat burning in your core begins to gather and spread. You try to rock your hips and bring your thighs together to grind the underside of your cunt against him, but his body doesn’t allow it. 

He lets go of your hands to reach down, the bed creaking with the weight of his supporting hand as he guides his cock to you. The back of his hand slides against the slick on your skin, your own arousal and the remnants of his saliva, and you groan again. He pushes firmly against you, your sharper sound his cue. 

Just the tip of his cock edges between your folds, down to your entrance. You let out a gasp, tightening desperately, letting little anxious sounds slip. Erwin pauses, leaning into you, knees knocking into the side of your legs. He reaches back up, holding your bound hands in his. 

“Please,” you pant, eyes wild and hands straining, fingers knotted together to keep yourself from thrashing and snapping his cords. Your back arches, hips and shoulders pressing into the bed. His hand flexes on your wrists. “Please.” Again, begging.

Even his long patience has limits.

“How cruel would I be to keep you waiting any longer?”

The kiss Erwin lays on your lips is heady with the scent of you and the flavor of his sweat. The weight of his body, the sleek of his muscles sliding against yours almost pushes your breath straight out of you, but your voice follows in a whine as he slowly thrusts his cock into you. 

“ _Oh!_ ”

You breathe it into his mouth, trying to keep the yelp under control before your voice slips too high, but being stretched so fully with his cock makes your whole body tremble. You squeeze your inner thigh muscles faintly, weakly, to no avail, and keep your lips pressed to his with another soft whine. 

Erwin breaks the kiss to push his head into the bed besides you, a shuddering moan coming from him. Your chest rises and falls faintly under his shoulder, trembling with the strength of your heartbeat, the physical rush of feeling him fill you. He twists his head to the side, kissing your cheek, before sliding his hand down your raised forearms to dig into the bed beside you, and pushing himself up to thrust into your body. 

His adjustment shifts him inside you, forcing a short hiss that you struggle to keep from exploding into a scream. These thrusts are deep, steady, fast, as he builds a rhythm that sends shivers shooting through you. You breathe in tight gulps, fingers shaking and clenching to hold on to each other, scrambling to anchor yourself above your head where he wants you to. 

Erwin takes hold of your leg, a cupping grasp right under the knee to pull it straight up. As your body shakes with his thrusts your foot rests over his shoulder and he moves to grab and hold you in place at the ankle, a strain that makes you moan even as it forces him in even deeper. Each stroke seems to hit right there, right to your core, over and over and over. It’s a fierce pace as his hips slam into your body. He fucks you fast, demanding and restless. Moans fall from you helplessly, and you try to force out the words through quick breaths.

“So – good – so – good inside – _Erwin!_ ”

You force yourself to keep it as faint as you can manage but you’re a babbling mess, sweat already rolling down your body. Erwin gasps out your name in response, his voice thick. Strands of blond hair fall in front of his eyes, and he grunts, tossing his head to shake them away.

His cock twitches in you when his strokes pause. You can feel it, what you do to him, what you’re making him feel. Your gaze rolls over his body, how his abdomen muscles contract with each thrust, how the sweat glistens in his collarbone, how his eyes burn behind the blond hair that stubbornly falls back across his forehead. Your toes curl, the foot over his shoulder pointing. The inability to touch him, to grab at him and hold him close, to kiss his mouth and scream his name, especially the harder he pounds into you with a brutal pace, is frustrating. 

Everything is tightening, your body trembling, your wrists throbbing against the cords. The waves he’s sending through you are so warm, so pleasurable, you feel your inner muscles constrict over him. Erwin’s hips slow. With a groan, he stops, pushing his cock deep up into you. He leans into your body, squeezing your leg against the hard, sweaty muscles of his chest, and you groan at the pull.

It brings your elbows swinging down, right over your face, as the writhing of your body falls completely out of your conscious control. You look up at him through half-open lashes, mouth open, cheeks burning hot. And he pulls out of you.

The lack of friction, the emptiness, is displeasing, and you whine, a light, “ _no_ -“

“I told you where to keep your hands,” Erwin says darkly. 

It silences you. Erwin lets your leg down, and reaches for your bound hands. He unties the cord, and you exhale. 

“Let’s try it again,” he says, in a dangerous, guttural growl. “Get up on your knees.”

Sitting up between his legs takes a moment, turning your wrists, massaging the blood flow back. You tilt your head up at him, trying to read his expression in the cut candlelight before he leans his face close to you. Erwin cradles your face in his hands, and leans in to give you a kiss. You taste yourself on his lips, the smooth stone of the tie in his palm pressing into your jaw.

“Turn around,” he whispers, and when you move on your knees, continues, “and hands behind your back.” 

You do, feeling the returning ache down your arms, the tightness at your wrists as he wraps the cords of the tie back around you. The weight of the stone falls between your constricted thumbs when he lets go, putting his hands on your shoulders to guide you back onto his lap. You whimper, and he kisses the side of your cheek. You turn your head at the cue, meeting his lips again as one hand moves down to grab at your bound fingers.

Another nonverbal message. _Trust me._

Erwin gives you little time to adjust, thighs splaying over his, before he thrusts up into you so quickly, so fully, that your breath cuts immediately sharp and shallow. The sensation spreads warm through your body, and you lean back, fully collapsing into his chest, letting the back of your head rest against his shoulder. The sweaty shags of his hair prick against your ear with the force of his strokes, thighs slapping against yours as he fucks up into you. He’s moving fast and deep, pounding against a sweet spot right up in your core that makes you grind your hips into him. It’s so hard your mouth cannot close, the breath pushing sharp out of you in a series of small, soft moans. 

The hand at yours tightens, his other coming to brace you at your stomach, pushing against your lower belly right where his cock hits you. You groan, a rough “ _fuck!_ ” at the sensation of his hand ribbing against the motions. You swing your head down, looking into your lap, at your cunt spread wide over him. It’s so erotic, so satisfying, to watch the gleam of his slick cock move into you, coated with your own arousal. You tighten and throb over him.

“ _Erwin, Erwin, oh fuck…_ ”

It feels hot, everything melting down inside you as he thrusts fast and hard upward into you. 

Without warning, his hand slides again, groping against your chest as he turns his head and kisses, clumsily, erratically, up the side of your throat to your cheek. You moan his name again as he rolls your nipple between his fingers, shaking over his cock when he moves to the other. 

“You’re getting – too – loud,” Erwin grunts in your ear, and then his hand is up again, on your shoulder to guide you down. His thighs rise behind you, hands tight and coaxing you face-down into the bed. The pillow is soft and muffling, and his cock pulls out just to the tip as he adjusts his knees over you. Trying to raise your own hips to bring him back is futile.

“Please…” you whimper, feeling yourself clench over nothing, body begging for him back. 

He slides into you with a groan, as deep as he can go all at once, and your word cuts off in a gasp. 

With your hands bound behind your back and anchored by his own hold, Erwin fucks you slowly now. The friction is almost your undoing, to have him stretch you again, even so slow. Agonisingly, teasingly. His cock rubs against some sensitive spot and you moan, pressing your face into the pillow, restlessly turning from side to side. Your tongue is heavy and wet in your own mouth. You squeeze your knees together, hands straining beneath the cords rubbing your skin raw under his brutally strong grip.

This is a most commanding Erwin, an Erwin who holds you roughly and fucks you deep. 

“I’m – I’m really close – “ you gasp, trying to turn your head back to see him. 

“I know you are,” Erwin says in a groan. He lets go of your wrists, smearing sweaty fingers slowly down across the small of your back to grab your hips. It gives him leverage, sliding his cock faster into you as your shoulders strain into the bed. “I am, too.”

You shudder as his touch. The temperature of your face rises even higher, heart drumming in your ears as he fucks your swollen, overstimulated cunt and holds you down. Your elbows slip, dragging down over the side of your ribs, the pulling at your shoulders throbbing down to your bound wrists. The trembling all over your body becomes more violent, more pointed, something wet dripping down your thigh with each thrust. 

The next moan is too much for you to hold back.

“You’re…too… loud,” Erwin says again, his own voice hitching, some sharp edge rising in it. “ _Shit_ -“ 

You can hear it too, the reverberating footsteps against the stairs ascending to the landing. You moan, turning your face into the pillow. The saliva that falls from your open mouth cools quickly, sticking against the fabric with each shake of your body, with each of his thrusts. The blood rushes everywhere beneath your skin, and your moan again.

He shushes you as the jaunty voices rise, continuing as they unlock the neighboring room.

“Be quiet,” Erwin whispers, low as his cock presses into you and stills. It’s so hot between your legs, and you shake. 

Someone’s right behind that thin wall, but you’re pulsating, your inner muscles clenching over him. The words continue, a conversation punctuated by laughter - and he’s moving again, hands hard, lifting your hips higher and pushing him deep into you as he leans over your back, bound fingers flattened against his stomach. 

“You’re so tight,” Erwin whispers, his voice guttural and low, so raw in your ear it makes you tremble. “Someone’s there, and you’re squeezing me so tightly.”

You bite into the pillow with a drooling open mouth, trying to keep the sounds from rising. You know, you can feel those inner muscles twitching, and his hard hands pulling at your ass begin to slide you back and forth, slowly, gently over his cock. The rubbing of him against your inner walls, the bruising press of his fingers into your hips and moving you, it – it just makes you want to scream.

“Can you still come? Come, come on.”

Erwin’s softly moaning encouragement increases, the words broken between pants for breath. The tightness in your muscles flutters as you breathe weakly into the pillow. The muffled voices continue as he works you closer and closer to climax. 

It’s all over when Erwin reaches around you, squeezing your upper arm and forcing his hand down between your body and the bed, dancing over your stomach, your hips, and finding your clit. If you can barely hear the neighboring conversation, they absolutely can hear the “ _Oh!_ ” that rocks out of you with every ministration of his finger, pressing hard, fast circles into you. The heat between your legs increases, your body rocking with his against the mattress. You’re clenching over him hard and desperately, his breath sharp hisses in your ear. It’s so hot right behind your stomach, his cock, his fingers, pushing it higher through you. 

You cry his name, arms bound and stiff under his body as Erwin makes you reach that peak, and you come with shudders, muscles spasming and shaking. The ecstasy roars through you so hot you could burn, heart hammering in erratic rhythm in time with the throbbing of your clit under his still-moving fingers. Your breaths are shallow and fast, the words sliding into a verbal mess.

And Erwin keeps going, groaning in your ear as you tremble between his chest and still-circling fingers over your swollen clit. His thrusts come shorter, hips colliding into yours, every movement becoming more urgent. You squeeze your eyes closed, trying to stifle the broken whimpers still falling from you, and feel the fears of overstimulation pricking at the corners of your eyes.

He chases his orgasm with a hoarse cry of your own name, a moment of reckless abandon. Your throbbing inner muscles squeeze weakly around his cock as he comes, rushing up through you as his body finally stills with a last thrust. Erwin collapses on top of you, and your gasping groan is one of pain as the weight of his body tugs your arms apart further than the binding can bear. He catches his breath for a moment, and you whimper again.

The neighboring room has fallen silent.

Erwin lets out a sigh and slides his slick cock out of you. You moan softly at the sensation, at his hands pushing soft over you, down to rub at the back of your thighs and up again. He sits up, leaning off you, and his hands come to yours, tugging at the bolo tie and setting you free. Your arms collapse, stinging and cold against the sheets.

It takes effort for you to roll onto your side, sliding your shoulder down against the cool wall, sweat on your skin staggering you down. Erwin takes your weak hands in his and lifts them to his face, his lips almost burning kisses against the indented, discolored skin as he settles on his side next to you. His chest heaves with beath and he massages his thumbs against your skin. His eyes glimmer at you, heavy, sparkling blue.

“It feels better,” you say after a few moments. 

He kisses your curled fingers – a silent _sorry, thank you_ \- once more, twice. 

“We might get more complaints,” he says, only a mild reprimand in his voice.

“Sorry,” you say, not fully meaning it.

You slide a hand free, to run up, shakily through the loose strands of blond hair, thumb catching against the shorter edges of his undercut. Erwin wraps an arm around the small of your back to coax you close to his chest, letting go of your other hand to tug at the necklace.

He kisses your forehead, and you feel the weight of the charm slide down to your shoulder, to the sheets. 

“Do you want to get dinner now, or later?” Erwin asks, his hand stroking gently against your back. A fingernail lightly traces against your spine, and you shiver into him. It must be night by now.

“Not quite yet,” you say, a little drowsily as the words accent with a sigh. You let your hand leave his hair, down his arm, fingers running over the muscles and scars, and then back up to run through the undercut again. “Later… will you stay tonight?”

“Of course,” he says, thumb rubbing at your waist, and you hear the breath catch in his throat as he pauses. In the shadows, he swallows, his neck shifting in the dim light. “I might have to leave early in the morning.”

Again, unspoken is the apology.

“I know, Commander,” you say, letting the forgiveness weigh through the words. 

“Then let’s eat soon.”

You don’t move yet, though, neither of you, and nothing more is said as you lie there still catching your breath. Erwin holds on to you, and you to him, sliding your leg between his, your bodies tied together in gentle embrace. He exhales heavily, leaning in and kissing your cheek. You tilt your face to him, slightly, just enough for him to press his warm, soft lips to yours. The kiss leaps from soft and sweet to passionate, breaking the knot of your bodies only when you both need air.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I see Erwin as a soft-dom so to speak and that’s how I wanted to write him. The soap scent I described actually comes from the Japanese brand Koubutsu-ya’s fragrance inspired by Erwin, which is described as “woodlands with deeper hints of rose, amber, and spice.” Also as a side note – I know there’s the song lyric “tied up with strings,” I just personally liked “in” for the title. Let me know what you think! :) ~ Tsura * SEE MY CARRD IN MY PROFILE FOR INFORMATION ABOUT MAKING REQUESTS *


End file.
